Just Fine
by Bailadora
Summary: CBPC September.  A tragic accident pulls the whole team together in ways they never thought possible.


**A/N: To make my life easier, President Bush isn't the Prez in this fic. This month's prompt is team bonding. Enjoy!! ((P.S. A big woo-hoo to Mrs. Habeck!! You know what for!!))**

Cam poked her head into Temperance's office, the feeling of dread in her stomach beginning to overwhelm her.

"Dr. Brennan?"

Temperance tore her eyes from the computer screen and was startled to see Cam so shaken. "What's wrong?"

"Can I talk to you out here, please?"

Temperance nodded and stood, wondering what was going on as she followed the pathologist out of the office. Hodgins, Zach, Angela, and Booth already stood around one of the examination tables. It held no body.

When the two doctors drew nearer, Temperance could see that the table was littered with papers and photographs. Hodgins and Zach both held glossy photos in their hands and had serious, contemplative expressions on their faces. Angela had one hand over her mouth and was determinedly looking in the opposite direction of the table. Booth's eyebrows were knit together and, though he stood at a distance, his eyes still roved over the jumble of papers.

Frowning, Temperance stepped forward and snatched up a photo. "What's going–" The words fell from her lips as the grisly image met her eyes.

A plane–or what was left of one–lay in pieces in the middle of a cornfield. Close-ups showed smoldering wingtips. Smashed landing gears. Broken glass. Burned bodies.

"How many?" Temperance asked, taking another photograph.

"Fourteen dead," Cam choked out.

Hodgins pointed at something on the paper he was holding and Zach peered over his shoulder to get a better look. They whispered for a moment, then fell silent again.

Temperance examined a photo of a human face, its mouth pulled back in a deathly grin, its flesh charred. Age, race, and sex were indiscernible from this angle.

She set the picture aside and looked a question in Booth's direction, wanting to know how this fell under FBI jurisdiction.

Angela spoke for the first time, her words laced with fear, shock, pity, and something else Temperance couldn't quite place. "The President and his family had a weekend getaway planned in their hometown in Iowa. The flight plan was logged at eight this morning." Angela stopped to take a deep breath.

Temperance glanced up from a severed leg. "What does that have anything to do with the crash?"

Booth placed a reassuring hand on Angela's shoulder. "The plane never landed," he continued for her. "It was a Gulfstream 4, same as this one." He gestured to the pile of photos. "The flight plan indicated twelve passengers and two pilots would be making the trip."

Temperance still hadn't caught on.

"This is in Iowa." Again Booth indicated the pictures.

"Conspiracy," Hodgins muttered. No one paid him any attention.

"When do we leave?" Temperance asked.

Cam answered for Booth. "Now. You all might want to stop at home and pack a change of clothes. This is going to be one long weekend." She turned on her heel and walked away.

Booth seized his opportunity as Temperance was gathering up the papers. "We're leaving for the airport together. Just me and you."

"But Booth, it would be more efficient if we–"

"I can only put up with them for so long. Me. You. Airport. Alone."

Temperance weighed her options. Booth wasn't one to give in easily, and his tone suggested that he wasn't asking for her opinion on this one. "Fine," she agreed, shoving the papers into his arms. "But I have to talk to Angela first."

She ran off after the artist, who had her head down and her arms wrapped around her waist.

"Angela?"

Eyes red and puffy, Angela stopped and looked up.

"Ange?"

For a moment neither woman said anything, then: "There was a baby on the plane." Angela hugged herself tighter.

"What?"

"A baby. The First Daughter had her baby along." She unconsciously rubbed a hand across her own flat stomach.

Never quite one to know the right words to say in situations like this, Temperance did her best to string some words together. "We don't even know if it is the First Family yet. Don't worry about it until we–"

At that moment Booth clapped his hands together. "All right Bones, let's go." He was already on his way out the door.

Temperance shot Angela a sympathetic smile. "Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine, sweetie. Really." She did her best to smile back, but her red eyes and flushed face made it a lost cause.

As Booth always kept a duffel of necessities in the back of his SUV, a quick stop at Temperance's apartment was the only delay on the way to the airport.

Unable to find her colleagues in the sea of milling people, Temperance waited by herself while Booth went to buy their tickets.

Finally, after two men had hit on her and another unsuccessfully tried to grab her behind, Booth returned with the tickets.

"First class?" she read aloud. "How can you afford this? My allowance is always higher than yours and even I don't have enough for this." She held the ticket an arm's length away as if it was offending her. "And what about the rest of the team?"

Booth simply shrugged. "I guess when the President is involved I get better perks. And the rest of the team will be fine without you." He began pushing his way through moms with screaming toddlers in strollers and men in business suits with cell phones pressed to their ears.

"Yes, but I should really be with them; we need to go over the photos and what will happen when we reach the scene."

Booth wasn't listening. What he was doing was getting farther and farther ahead of her. Sighing, Temperance shoved through the crowd after him.

Once seated on the plane, Temperance pulled out the crash photos and began to examine every inch of the wreckage. Booth sat on the aisle side of her and he jiggled his leg up and down, obviously impatient. Even with the extra space they had from being in first class his movement caused the papers in her hands to shake.

"Will you knock it off?" she snapped.

Booth gave her a funny look, but stopped the jiggling. For about two minutes that is. Then it started up again. Temperance made a big deal of sighing, but Booth took no notice. A bell dinged and a stewardess requested that everyone fasten his or her seatbelt.

The plane gained speed and the next time Temperance glanced out the window the ground was far below them. She went through the stack of photos twice, not saying anything to Booth, whose leg was still bouncing, but now in time with the music flowing from his iPod.

Temperance rolled her eyes and watched the clouds pass below her.

Another death. Fourteen deaths, actually.

She made a mental checklist of everything she would need at the scene, from body bags to cameras to laundry detergent, which would help remove burnt flesh from metal or upholstery. With fourteen victims the list grew longer and longer and Temperance could feel her frown deepening.

A sudden weight on her knee made her look down. Booth's hand rested on her leg, and his eyes bored into hers with a burning intensity.

"You okay?" His earbuds dangled from his hand and she could hear AC/DC coming from them.

She nodded, wanting to get back to her list.

He didn't seem to believe her. "It's okay if you want to talk about it. That's what I'm here for."

She looked from his hand on her leg up to his deep brown eyes. "Really. I'm fine."

And she was. When she had been in Guatemala identifying bodies, she'd been fine. When she'd given names to mass murder victims she had been fine. When she'd sorted out the bodies of children burned in a deliberately set fire she'd been fine. And she was fine now.

With a frown of his own, Booth reinserted his earbuds and closed his eyes, keeping beat with his leg again. Neither said a word during the rest of the trip, both preparing themselves for the terror about to unfold.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They met up with Hodgins, Zach, Angela, and Cam at baggage claims and together trudged through the milling people to their rental SUV. The drive to the scene was made in silence. Booth's hands were tense on the steering wheel. Temperance, who was riding shotgun, made no move to comfort him. Instead, she watched rows of corn fly by outside the window. When she happened to glance in the rearview mirror, she saw that Zach was looking at the scenery as well, and that Hodgins had Angela's hands clasped in his. Cam had a blank expression on her face.

Temperance vaguely wondered why this case was affecting everyone in this way, but quickly abandoned the thought. Psychology wasn't her thing. Hard science was.

A haphazard jumble of police cruisers, fire trucks, morgue vans, and press vehicles marked where they should park. Booth pulled in next to another black SUV and tugged the key out of the ignition in a defeated manner.

"Well?"

Five pairs of eyes fell on him. With one last sigh, he opened his door and stepped out. Everyone else followed suit.

After getting directions from a sheriff, Temperance grabbed her bag and led the way under the yellow police line tape. She walked with an air of confidence, but inside she was steeling herself for the inevitable blow that was about to hit. Though she had been dealing with death every day for longer than she was willing to admit, it still felt personal. She took a few seconds to reflect on the lives that had been erased and readied herself to give them names. Then she took her feelings and stored them in a place deep inside of her. They would not be getting the best of her today.

The smell of burning fuel met her nose first. Then came the underlying reek of death.

The front half of the plane lay a hundred yards from the rest of the fuselage. Broken wings lay on either side, the lights on the tips still blinking. If it hadn't been for the size and the firefighters spraying foam on hotspots, Temperance could have mistaken it for a child's toy.

"They're contaminating evidence," she whispered to Booth, who was also taking in the scene. He just shook his head.

For the second time that day Temperance felt the need to say something sentimental. She could come up with nothing. "You okay?" she asked instead.

"Just fine," he replied, but he obviously was not fine. Again she found herself wondering how this case was different. She said nothing, but turned to the rest of the team. Zach and Hodgins had already wandered off, leaving a shocked-looking Angela and Cam, whose face still portrayed no emotion. Temperance relayed the same question to the two of them. Both nodded. Cam squared her shoulders and marched after Zach and Hodgins, a look of determination now etched across her face.

"Do you want to go back to the car?" Temperance asked gently.

Angela answered with a firm no.

"Okay. Let's go." Squaring her shoulders like Cam had, Temperance set off towards the smoking, reeking mess.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"We've got one over here!" a small man with FAA stamped across the back of his jacket called.

Temperance jogged over with Booth close on her heels. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and dropped to her knees next to the body.

They'd already been there for four hours. Temperance had examined three sets of remains, two of them pilots, the other a young female. She'd also seen enough severed body parts to last the rest of her life.

This body was still relatively intact, though most of the soft tissue had been burnt away. Only the left hand had managed to separate itself from the rest of the body.

"Male," Temperance announced to no one in particular. "Age…" she looked at the fissures of the pelvis and the wear on the teeth, "…thirty-five to forty." She gingerly ran a finger along the skull. "Caucasoid." Rocking back on her heels she stood back up and looked to Booth.

"It's him," he said softly.

Temperance snapped off her gloves. "You don't know that."

Booth's eyes met hers. "I do." He held something in his uncharacteristically gloved hand. Temperance stepped closer. It was a driver's license. Though fire had melted most of it, a friendly face smiled out at her. The President's face.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Temperance spent the rest of the day identifying the President's family and friends. His two-year-old grandson and four-month-old granddaughter were among the deceased.

Everyone felt exhausted by the time they arrived at the hotel. Nobody wanted to share what was going on in their heads, they only wanted to fall into bed.

Temperance noticed Booth looking over the dejected group, an unreadable expression on his face.

"My room," he said finally.

"What?"

"I want everyone to come up to my room. We're going to talk about this."

Everyone began protesting at once.

Booth held up his hands. "I'm not negotiating."

Falling into line, they followed Booth up to his room and dropped their bags onto the floor, too tired to admire the spacious area or the view out the widow.

Hodgins and Angela sat on the edge of the bed, Cam claimed a chair, and Zach and Temperance leaned against a wall. Booth disappeared and came back holding a large candle. He set it down on the floor and held a lighter up to it. The squints watched in curiosity.

"Hit the lights."

Zach did, plunging the room into semi-darkness, the candle the only source of light. Its flame cast odd shadows around the room.

Booth sat on the floor. "Come on." This time no one fought. They folded themselves down, forming a circle around the flickering candle.

Though Temperance smelled of death and sweat and wanted a shower, it was comforting to be sitting here with her closest friends. She looked around the circle at the familiar faces and felt like there was no place she would rather be.

"So," Booth began. "How are you guys doing?"

"We're fine," insisted Hodgins. "Really we are." His eyes flashed in the darkness.

"No we're not," Angela whispered softly, almost inaudibly. "I don't know what we are but we're not fine."

For a time no one said a word, each reflecting on the day's events.

Finally Booth spoke. "I want everyone to hold hands," he instructed. They did. Cam's was cool and smooth in Temperance's left, Booth's large and dry on her right. "Close your eyes." Again they did as Booth said. "Now, each of us is going to say something that we thought about today. It can be anything, but this is your chance to let us know what you're really feeling. I'll start."

He took a deep breath. "I think it's really hard to work with the remains of children. They hardly had a chance to see the world before it was ripped away from them. It's just not–" His voice cracked and he stopped speaking. Zach waited to see if he would finish before stating his own thoughts. Booth said nothing more.

Zach cleared his throat. "I find that people rely too much on machines. If we as humans didn't have to find a way to simplify everything then this wouldn't have happened. But that's just the thing. We _are_ humans. It's in our nature to create tools to do the job for us, but some of those tools are dangerous and for some reason we trust them when really we shouldn't. Because we're humans."

"It's not a mechanical problem," Hodgins continued. "It's a conspiracy against the United–"

"This isn't a conspiracy act, Hodgins!" Booth snapped. Hodgins was mute.

Next was Angela. Her voice quivered slightly. "Sometimes it doesn't seem real, you know? It's like, 'This can't possibly be happening.' But it really is. And you just keep expecting to wake up but you never do. Because you're not sleeping."

"This is my job," Cam began slowly, as if she was unsure of what she was saying. "You'd think it would get easier with each death that I see. But it doesn't. It just seems to get harder, and then I start to think that maybe there's no humanity left in this world." She was no longer talking about the current case, and her voice was growing stronger. "Like maybe there's no more loving, compassionate, caring people left." She considered what she'd said. "But then I see you guys and I remember. Someone _does_ care."

When Cam said nothing more, Temperance wondered aloud what had been on her mind all day. "Why is this case any different? Why does being famous affect how much people care, how much effort they put in? If this were just a small plane with a few average people in it would we be here right now? I don't understand how our society, which is based on equality, can make such a big deal out of something like this, when there are so many minor incidents that never even make the news. We're all the same. We all want to be treated the same, and we should be. In life _and _death."

With that she opened her eyes and found the rest of the team staring at her.

Booth gave a small smile and squeezed her hand. That one motion made her feel like maybe someone really did understand. She wanted to share that, so she squeezed Cam's hand. The looks that crossed the faces of everyone else in the circle told her that Cam had passed on the squeeze.

And Temperance almost smiled. Maybe because she was here with her friends. Maybe because tomorrow would be a little easier with them by her side. Or maybe just because it felt good to truly be just fine.

10


End file.
